


The Promise

by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Dark Magic, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gift Fic, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Promises, RFFA Valentine's Exchange 2018, Romance, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:09:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: He made a promise to her once, when they were children. Ten years later, he came back into her life to see it through.[excerpt]:“Have the years been so unkind as to cause you to lose all trust and hope?” Kylo murmured. “Even as I stand here before you?”Rey hesitated. The need to connect the past to the present, to prove that this was not the remnant of some long-forgotten fantasy, was overwhelming. “Let me see you,” she begged. “Take off your masque. Please.”Kylo bent his head in acquiescence. His fingers, so long and thick, were deceptively nimble as he loosened the ties. They fell undone with a whisper and he shook his head as he straightened once more, awaiting her judgment.





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/gifts).



> For the Prompt:  
> Historical AU (surprise me!) with the #mood of the song "I Will be There" from the Count of Monte Cristo musical, especially these lines: _"I will be there beside you through the lonely nights that fall, so close your eyes, remember my embrace. I will be there like mercy, I will find you through it all. This do I swear, I will be there."_
> 
> Dear diasterisms:  
> I was both thrilled and nervous when I learned that I had been assigned to write a fic for you. I love historic AUs, so your third prompt spoke to me right away. In fact, this could have easily snowballed into a 50k+ longfic if not for the time constraints, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy this, even if it's closer to a Sparknote’s version. You are an absolute gift to the fandom, and I hope that I was able to capture a bit of that romance you were looking for. Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely!! <33
> 
> *Artwork by an incredible [**omnomnomlette** ,](https://omnomnomlette.tumblr.com/) who is not only insanely talented, but just the nicest person to work with <3  
> **Cambridge Dictionary spellings. For no reason, other than to lend a historical AU atmosphere. I'll take it where I can get it.  
> ***Un-beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

 

* * *

  ** _All human wisdom is contained in these two words, 'Wait and Hope.’_ **

-The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

 

**⚜.~OIO~.⚜**

The first time she met him, she thought he was nothing more than a conveyancer and a crook.

“Keep your wits about you, Miss Niima,” her duenna whispered. She spoke behind a gloved hand, as if the woolen fabric could somehow temper the severity of her awe and disgust. “It’s the _Heathens.”_ Her nostrils flared as she sniffed. “Though you would never know it from their dress. Look at them, cloaked from head to toe in silks and cottons, as if they were fit to step foot in Lord Snoke’s court.”

Rey’s round face pulled into a frown. “They seem to be preparing for a performance of some sort, Miss Abigail.” She tilted on the balls of her feet to peer around the quickly amassing crowd, her hazel eyes squinting at the battered sign in front, the once-bold lettering faded from the sun. “ _‘Displays of Magic and Fortunes Told.’_ How interesting.”

“Curiosities, they are, the entire lot of them. And the only sorcery they are capable of is filching the gold from your purse and the jewelry off your person. Now be a good girl and hold tight to your belongings, and stay close to me.” She held Rey’s hand as they began to make their way through the crowd. They had nearly reached the adjoining footpath when a voice piped up suddenly from behind the makeshift stage.

“Hey! Don’t go, the show is about to start!”

A boy, not that much older than Rey, leapt beside them. Miss Abigail drew herself up to her full height.

“Such rudeness and impertinence! You are not to address my charge in such a familiar manner. Come along, Miss Niima.”

“Miss Niima.” The words rolled off the boy’s tongue as if he were tasting every letter, savouring their lines and loops as they left the safety of his mouth. “It is my pleasure to meet you. I’m Ben… Ben Solo.”

Rey stared open-eyed, unable to hide her fascination with the young man. His visage was a disconcerting mix of angles and curves which seemed at odds with—yet also perfectly suited for—the long lines of his face. The tips of his ears were stained pink, and he wore a contrite expression as he bent forward in the semblance of a bow, the act of which seemed to please Miss Abigail. But when the older woman’s attention gravitated towards the stage, Ben lifted his tawny eyes and gave Rey a decidedly saucy wink.

_“Watch,”_ he mouthed, sneaking up beside her. Rey pulled her cloak around her and shivered; Ben was likely no more than four, perhaps five, years older than she, but there was something about his behaviour which made him seem much more worldly despite the difference in their stations. She cast a quick glance at Miss Abigail, but the duenna was mesmerised by the activity taking place on the stage.

“Why... of all the ridiculous things!” Miss Abigail muttered as a pair of ravens transformed into two fluttering doves from beneath the performer’s cloak. “Necromancy, divination, and communing with the spirits. It’s witchcraft, I tell you.” The brown ringlets under her cap bobbed vigorously with her disapproval.

“Let’s give the old thornback the slip, shall we?” Ben whispered into Rey’s ear.

A part of her knew that she should behave, that she _should_ stay close to Miss Abigail’s skirts. But this boy— _Ben_ —piqued her curiosity. There was something incredibly intoxicating about the freedom he exhibited… about the way he was able to slip in and out of the crowd, acting as if he were able to grasp the sum total of each person’s existence with no more than an inquisitive stare.

“Alright,” she breathed. His eyes widened as if surprised by her ready agreement, which was quickly replaced by something mischievous as his mouth broke out into a huge grin.

“Alright.” He grabbed her hand; his touch was not yet roughened by hard work or age, but the sheer size and length of it hinted at his strength. They wound their way behind the wooden carts filled with colourful fabrics and hand-hewn baskets, past a pair of majestic and well-matched roans, and into a makeshift tent. The smouldering and ashen remains of a campfire and the smell of wild nettle filled the air. Ben grabbed a small pouch from within the pocket of a threadbare coat; he loosened the strings and removed an item, quickly replacing the bag then motioning for Rey to follow him out.

“Where are we going?” Rey glanced back at Miss Abigail, who was still watching the stage with a distraught expression.

“Just around the corner to the pâtisserie. I want to get us something to eat.”

“I don’t have any money,” Rey began.

_“I_ have. You’re my guest; it’s my treat.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed as she took in Ben’s bedraggled appearance. His dark locks were too long and his cheeks were sharp—painfully so, especially when set against the gauntness of his face. His clothes looked to have been mended several times over, and his pants hung off the prominent bones of his hips while ending several inches above his overly large feet. “Perhaps another time,” she started doubtfully even as she followed him into the narrow alley behind one of the shops. “I’m not that hungry, anyway.” She stopped suddenly as they were assaulted by the smell of freshly baked pastries, drizzled with nuts and honey.

“Are you sure?” Ben asked with a smug smile as Rey’s stomach grumbled in protest. He opened the palm of his hand to reveal a single guinea, the golden glint of it a beacon against the backdrop of his dirt-stained skin.

“Ben!” Rey hissed. “Where did you get that? You need to give it back!”

Ben scowled. “It’s mine; I earned it. Even if I had to act the game pullet and whore myself out. Not in that way,” he added as Rey’s hand flew to her mouth at his vulgarity. “Lord Snoke is obsessed with my family. He fears, yet covets, the power which we wield. He allows us to perform when we pass through his lands each Spring, from fear of my mother’s retribution should he refuse, and to allow himself the pleasure of being touched by our brand of magic.”

“Magic,” Rey scoffed.

“You don’t believe?” Ben asked. He placed the guinea between the second and third fingers of his right hand, then waved his left hand over the coin. When he opened both, the coin had disappeared. “See? Magic.”

Rey grabbed his hands, turning them palm up, then down. When they came up empty, she fingered the lining of his sleeve, her face lighting up in a triumphant grin as the press of cool metal greeted her flesh.

“Ha! Magic, indeed. ‘Twas nothing more than a sleight of hand,” she sniffed.

“Perhaps,” Ben confessed, laughing. The mirthful sound brightened up his entire countenance and in that moment, Rey thought that it made him appear strangely handsome. “You’re right, you know. That was nothing but a parlour trick. But it doesn’t change the fact that there _is_ magic in the world, magic that can make people happy, like the illusion of a disappearing and reappearing coin. And a deeper, darker magic, one that only a few ever know.”

Rey felt her world narrowing as Ben’s eyes grew intense, the noises of the faire fading into the background. She let out a long exhale, unaware that she had been holding her breath. “What do you mean by that?”

“True magic. Life magic… the magic which flows within all of us, the kind which binds us to this Earth and to each other. Some people choose to ignore their magical powers, while others are more attuned. Sometimes magical knowledge can fade over generations through ignorance and suppression. But sometimes, it takes just a simple action—perhaps a simple chance of fate—to reawaken a previously dormant gift.”

“I don’t know,” Rey said slowly. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

“You’ve never been amazed at the changes of the seasons, at the way the bitter greys of winter give way to the colours of Spring, or how the air becomes perfumed with the fragrance of the seedlings as they bloom and grow? Have you ever wondered how the departed manage to appear to us in our dreams, or why the broodmare experiences the joy of unfettered love when she finally foals?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Do you know why I pulled you out of the crowd?” Ben persisted. Rey shook her head. “I _felt_ you. Your spirit, your life force. It called out to me, Miss Niima.”

“Such flattery,” Rey protested, even as her cheeks pinked. “It is the sort of drivel that women like Miss Abigail devour in their books, poring over pages filled with tales of ‘destinies intertwined’ and the silly antics of besotted fools.”

Ben’s eyes flared. “You don’t believe in the magic of true love?” He cocked his head as if stymied by her response. “‘Tis the most powerful magic of all.”

Rey shook her head stubbornly. “The love of affection, perhaps.”

“Ahh. _Philia,”_ Ben nodded. “But there are other forms of love: _Philautia,_ or self-love; _Ludus,_ or playful love; _Mania,_ or obsessive love; _Eros_ … ” he finished wolfishly, waggling his brows.

Rey held out her right hand. Its shape was still that of an eleven-year old—still plump, still soft. “See this?” she asked, extending her fourth finger on which she wore a ring. “I was but a babe, not even a year old when I was betrothed to someone in Lord Snoke’s court. The Lord Kaplan, the Baron of Coruscant, who also happens to be twenty years my senior. My future husband is said to be quick of temper and even quicker with the strap. Love and magic won’t change that; only a vault of guineas could.” She dropped her hand. “How can I believe in love when mine has already fated through the actions of the greedy and the weak?”

Ben picked up her hand and studied the ring. His brows furrowed as he stared at the fiery red stone. “You can’t marry him,” he declared angrily. His thumb rubbed absently against the pad of her hand, causing her breath quicken. “Your spirit is too special to be sullied by some gotch-gutted louse.”

“My father has an unnatural fondness for gambling and drink. Unless someone should come up with enough gold to leave his lands and title in good standing, that is the future I am left with, I’m afraid.”

“I will do so then,” Ben said fiercely, with an intensity and purpose that surprised her in its honesty. “I’m destined for more than this. My family is strong with magic; it flows in my veins, and has been a part of me since I was born. The things we perform for the crowds, for Lord Snoke’s pleasure, are mere trifles. He knows this, and despises us yet desires our company for the Dark Magic that we have. The very same magic that I feel in you.”

“You don’t know me,” she protested. “And my father’s debts are not insignificant. They are considerably more than most men could think—or hope—to absolve.”

“You’re wrong; I _do_ know you. I know who you are.” Spots of colour formed on Ben’s cheeks. “Erm…”

“Rey,” she said, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the stone walls as she eventually took pity on him.

“Well, Rey of the House of Niima,” Ben said, his mouth twitching into a lopsided grin as he lowered himself in a bow, “perhaps I didn’t know who you _were_ , but I know who you _are_. And I know that I will free you from your obligation, however long it takes.”

“How I wish that were true,” Rey admitted as Ben straightened. “But I also know that you're unlikely to stay in one place for very long. My life remains here... surrounded by my family, and the reminders of my responsibilities.”

“I am nearly fifteen... nearly of age to be considered a man, to set forth on my own adventures, and make my own life. But wherever my travels take me, I _will_ be back. No matter how long it takes, nor how many years may pass, remember this: 'I will be there beside you through the lonely nights that fall. I will be there like mercy, I will find you through it all.'  Trust in me, Rey, and this, my promise to you. _”_

Rey closed her eyes; there, in the light of the late afternoon, she let herself believe that it could be true.

“Here,” she said, wresting the ring off her finger and placing it in the middle of Ben’s palm. “Take this. It is not much, but it is a start. Do with it what you will, to buy yourself your freedom—and hopefully with it, mine too.”

Ben jiggled the piece of jewelry within the space of his fist, as if its weight were too great to contemplate. “Rey, I can’t. The loss of something this valuable won’t go unnoticed.”

Rey shrugged. “‘Twould be more valuable to us both if it should go with you. I’ll say that I was admiring its beauty when it slipped out from my hands and rolled away. They treat me as if I were nothing but a silly fool; what is the worst that they could do? Reprimand me? Find me a buck-fitch to wed?” She lifted a brow, as if daring him to disagree.

“I think you anything but a fool,” Ben said fervently. He passed his hand along the side of her face, making her laugh in delight when the guinea suddenly appeared from behind her ear. “What would you do? If you had all the money to spend as you wished?”

Rey gave the question some thought, then pulled him in front of the window of a nearby shop. “I would buy that entire lot of lardy cakes,” she said, pointing to the array of treats that tempted their eyes and their mouths, “and share them all with you.”

“Lardy cakes?” Ben asked incredulously. “Whatever for?”

“Yes,” Rey said firmly. “Freshly made, of course. Bread, since it is a staple which we cannot live without. The raisins, because their sire, the grape, symbolises charity and sacrifice. Ginger, for its representation of passion and purity. And honey—for its sweetness, and for life.”

“Well in that case, when I return, I shall buy you all the lardy cakes your heart desires.”

They stood in front of the window with her smaller hand clutched in his grasp, their bodies pressed close to one another, oblivious to everyone else. Their brief moment of contentment was quickly shattered, however, by the heavy footsteps of the constable, who was followed closely by a visibly distraught Miss Abigail.

“Miss Niima,” the older lady wailed, wringing her hands.“You wicked girl! You gave me such a fright! In the twenty-five years I’ve been employed, never once have I lost a charge—”

“You still haven’t,” Ben snickered, leaning against the wall with obvious amusement.

“Get away from there, boy,” the constable snarled, reaching out with a meaty paw as he hauled Ben away from the storefront by the nape of his collar. “Were you looking to pinch your next meal?” Ben’s tawny eyes glared in defiance as the Bow Runner spat at his feet. “A bunch of crooks, the whole lot of you. Damn Heathens; I have no idea what the good Lord Snoke sees in your kind. Beggars and vagrants, corrupting the streets with your blasphemy and filth.”

Ben let out a yelp as the constable jerked him roughly, dragging him down the footpath. Rey struggled against Miss Abigail; when her attempts to loosen herself from the duenna’s grip failed, she let out a cry of desperation.

“Ben!”

“Rey!” Ben shouted as the distance between them grew, the space quickly filling with the throngs of shoppers. “Never forget: This do I swear; I will come back for you! _"_

Rey craned her neck, trying to catch Ben’s attention, for one more hopeful glimpse. But when the crowd finally parted, Ben was nowhere to be found.

**~***~**

Rey dreamt of him. Of the way he held her hand, and his determination, and his conviction. Of the hope he gave her, and their brief moment of happiness. Then days turned into weeks, and weeks to months, and months to years, her memories of their time together growing soft and dull along the edges, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring, like the residue of honey on the tip of her tongue.

It was nearly ten years later when such sweetness turned, becoming a bitterness that chafed the back of her throat. When she cursed herself for acting the fool, for dreaming of a future which she could never have, and for believing in the promise of a young boy left unfulfilled.

It was on her twenty-first birthday when Rey’s hope for happiness finally died out.

 

**⚜.~OIIO~.⚜**

The second time she saw him, it was on the worst day of her life.

“‘Tis unbearable to be under such scrutiny, Emiline,” Rey hissed under her breath. “If I so as much as sneeze I shall find Mister Hux at my side, with a handkerchief in hand. If I felt trapped before, ‘twas nothing compared to what I am suffering now, limited by my parent’s foibles and the restrictions placed on our sex.” She cast a surreptitious look back; Lord Snoke’s young advisor remained a respectable fifteen paces behind, although the distance did nothing to alleviate the sharpness of his gaze.

The abigail adjusted Rey’s packages underneath her arm. “Mister Hux is quite... attentive,” she said carefully. “Forgive me for my bluntness, Miss Niima. But Lord Snoke strikes me as the type of man who enjoys keeping a close rein on his most cherished possessions. It has been rumoured that he once gouged out the eyes of the Earl of Bespin for having done nothing more than admire his Lordship’s prized stallion.”

“And is that what I have become? The Marquess’ chattel, a possession to be paraded about?”

“Of course not, Miss Niima. But you are now twenty and one, and well past a marriageable age. There are not many suitors who would be willing to wait so long, and far fewer with the means to break your betrothal contract with the Baron of Coruscant. If the stories of Lord Kaplan are true, then you are currently in a far better place.”

_I will be there like mercy, Rey. I will find you through it all._

“I feel as if I have just traded one gilded cage for another,” Rey whispered.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, cursing the moment when her body sealed her fate—when her legs grew lean and her torso curved, while her lips grew as full and red as the sweetest of the summer’s berries.  She bemoaned the sharpness of her tongue and the perspicacity of her wit, a combination which compelled and enticed. But most of all she imprecated Ben, for damning her with the falsity of hope.

“To be betrothed to my intended is to exchange a minute with a krait for a lifetime with a nest of vipers. Youth and beauty are fleeting, Emiline,” Rey said forlornly. “I would trade it all to be able to taste freedom, to finally sip from the cup of life.”

Her companion shook her head sadly. “I am truly sorry for your situation, Miss Niima. Your engagement should be one of celebration, not of mourning.”

“And to make matters worse, my future husband insists on celebrating the news of our impending nuptials with each and every sycophant from all the surrounding territories.”

A sudden hand on Rey’s arm caused her to start.

“You should be humbled that the Marquess has shown _any_ interest in someone of your station,” Hux hissed, his obvious outrage twisting his patrician features into something cruel. “There are many who would be grateful to be in your position.”

“My opinions regarding my position appear to carry little weight, Mister Hux. As, apparently, do yours,” Rey responded coolly.

Hux’s grip tightened, the pressure from his fingers digging through the layers of her dress. “You would do well to watch your tongue, Miss Niima. It is difficult to wish a wagging one back, once it has left the safety of your mouth.”

Rey’s retort was lost as the sounds of a large carriage rumbled down the street at breakneck speed. Its large wheels clattered, spitting up dirt and rock as the coach came to an abrupt halt alongside them. A quartet of black thoroughbreds neighed in protest as the carriage’s massive body swayed wildly, its springs groaning from the sudden shift in direction.

“Well, I never!” Hux exclaimed, the cultured tones of his voice rising into an undignified squawk.

“Are you alright, Miss Niima,” Emiline asked, noting her mistress’ stunned expression.

Rey turned, drawn to the imposing monstrosity which loomed less than five metres away.

“Yes,” she said slowly. A prickle of unease settled over her; she peered at the window but was denied a closer look by the curtains which hung over the glass.

“It appears as if the guests for tonight’s festivities have started to arrive,” Emiline said breathlessly.

“Guests or not, there are such things to be observed as manners and protocol.” Hux stepped up to the carriage, rapping on the door with his walking stick. “Move along now, sirrah. You cannot be blocking traffic in the middle of the day with such a crowd.” His green eyes widened as the curtain slowly shifted. There was silence from the carriage for several more seconds until the giant wheels finally turned and the coach lumbered down the street.

The tension in Hux’s shoulders visibly lessened. “Dirty foreigners,” he muttered under his breath. He wiped at the bead of sweat which had gathered above his brow, frowning once he caught Rey’s knowing stare.

“Don’t dawdle,” Hux sneered as Rey’s lips thinned. “You have a fiancé and a cavalcade of well-wishers waiting to celebrate the joyous occasion with you, after all.”

 

**⚜.~OIIIO~.⚜**

The third time she saw him, she never saw his face.

“You look magnificent, darling,” Lord Snoke greeted Rey as the guests began to filter into the main hall. His hand felt cool and dispassionate against her sweaty palms; his lips, even more so as they brushed the curve of her cheek.

Rey fought the shudder of revulsion which roiled through her. She took a deep breath and then another as she steadied her gaze.

“As do you, my Lord.”

“How kind of you, my child.” Snoke’s eyes glistened, the corners of his lips twisting momentarily as if he found her situation humorous. “Your face is too entirely readable, Miss Niima. Your distaste for your situation has been made unfortunately clear.” His voice lowered as he drew out his words, underlying the threat beneath them. “My patience has its limits, even in the face of your beauty and considerable gifts. To survive, you must learn to play the games of my court. Do not forget that it is not only your own, but your parents’ fate which hangs upon the balance of your behaviour.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Rey answered, gritting her teeth.

“It is time to put on your masque,” her fiancé murmured. He brushed his fingers over the silk fabric lovingly before moving on to the satin ribbons which decorated the corners. “As great a travesty as it would be to obscure your lovely countenance, there is something to be said about keeping it hidden. I quite enjoy the idea of you bound to me, for my eyes only.”

Miss Abigail had often warned her about her propensity to speak before thinking. “I have no need of a masque to do so, my Lord,” Rey said sweetly, “for your agreement with my family has already bound me to you in person, if not in heart. And with regard to the latter, I have long learned to cloak my own desires, and have no need for such things as a domino to do so.” As if to prove her point, Rey slipped the _Colombina_ over her face. Her lips transformed into a polite smile, although the disguise could not hide the anger contained within her eyes.

Snoke let out a low hiss at her impertinence. His next words, however, were cut off by the introduction of one of their guests.

“Lord Snoke. Miss Niima,” the Viscount of Canto Bright said as he bowed to each in turn. “Felicitations on your betrothal. Indeed, Snoke, I don’t believe you could have found a more worthy jewel to adorn your already-glorious crown.”

“She is worth more to me than anything I have in my vaults,” Snoke agreed.

“Ahh, indeed. And no doubt, guarded similarly,” the Viscount tittered.

A slow smile spread over Snoke’s face. “You know how protective I am of those things which belong to me.”

“How fortunate you are, Miss Niima, to have a man who values you so highly.”

Rey widened her smile until the edges transformed into something brittle. “Indeed I am, my Lord.”

It continued in such a manner, with each guest offering their congratulations while judging Rey as an indicator of Snoke’s competence and worth. The press of hands was numbing, the brightly-jeweled silks and fine-combed wools became an indistinguishable blur, and the swell of music and the gaiety of laughter seemed to mock her inconsolable state. Time slowed to a standstill, and Rey wondered how long she would need to maintain her presence before she could politely sequester herself in her quarters under the pretense of a megrim.

Lost in her thoughts, she had not noticed until now that the hall had grown loud with the whispers of excited gossip, the energy in the room becoming charged with anticipation. Even Snoke seemed to notice as he straightened perceptibly at her side.

The man who entered her line of sight was undeniably imposing. It wasn’t merely his size, although he was tall and broad, towering over most of the guests in attendance. It wasn’t just the manner of his dress, although the fit of his clothes was cut to perfection, fitting his form like a second skin. It wasn’t just the beauty of his mane, which was not cropped, nor slicked with pomade, nor bewigged, but which hung naturally below the lines of his shoulders, thick and loose and gleaming.

What set this man apart was the way he moved—powerful and graceful, each step deliberate and full of meaning. His face was hidden behind a _Bauta_ , gilded in black and gold. Rey tried to glimpse the color of his eyes and she felt the heat staining her cheeks as the man noted her perusal, his sensual lips pulling up into a smirk.

“Welcome,” Snoke said as the man lowered himself into a deep bow. “You certainly know how to make an entrance, Lord—?”

“Lord Ren,” the man said as he straightened effortlessly. “Kylo Ren, the Earl of Alderaan, of the Duchy of Aquitaine.”

Snoke lowered his own masque in order to peer at the strange guest intently.

“So curious. I have not heard of you before, yet you seem somehow familiar.”

Ren lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I doubt that our paths have crossed, at least recently. I have travelled extensively in the last several years, and have just taken up residence at the former Villefort estate.”

A look of surprise crossed Snoke’s face which he quickly smoothed over. “Yes. I had heard the rumours of Lord Villefort’s untimely demise. So does this mean we will be graced with your presence during the upcoming Season?”

Ren kissed the back of Rey’s hand, his lips grazing the surface for a moment longer than was proper. “We shall see. I am a busy man, Lord Snoke. However, I do find the idea of a Season suddenly… appealing.” The Earl’s voice lowered, the boldness of his words causing Rey to nearly gasp. But before she could reprimand him for his temerity, Ren had turned his attentions back to Snoke.

“I must commend you on your eye for beauty, Snoke. Congratulations on your impending nuptials. May your lives be filled with happiness, as well as with the virtues of loyalty and trust.”

There was an implication in Ren's words, an accusation in his tone which made Rey flinch. “The virtues of which you speak, my Lord, are those which must be earned,” she snapped.

“That may be,” Ren acknowledged. “Yet it has also been said that _‘_ _loyalty is still the same, whether it win or lose the game; true as a dial to the sun, although it be not shined upon.’”_

Rey’s temper flared. “But I beg to differ, my Lord, for it has also been opined that loyalty cannot be _‘manufactured at all, for its origin is the human heart, the center of self-respect and human dignity.’_ Furthermore, loyalty _‘is a force which leaps into being only when conditions are exactly right for it, and it is a force very sensitive to betrayal.’_ ”

Ren was quiet. When he resumed speaking, there was a softness to his tone. “You believe that you have been betrayed.”

Rey lifted her chin. “Unfortunately more than once, my Lord.”

Snoke waved his hand at their discussion. “The one thing you will learn, my dear, is that loyalties can be bought and alliances shifted.”

“Alliances, perhaps,” Rey demurred, “but true loyalty is not something that can be bartered with. Only in its most adulterated form may it be bought, which makes its worth naught, as there will always be another who may offer something higher than what you can yourself. _‘You cannot buy the devotion of hearts, minds, and souls. You have to_ earn _these things.’”_

“Touché,” Ren said with a hint of admiration as he bowed once more. “It is a great pleasure to meet one whose beauty is matched by their rapier wit. Now you must forgive my selfishness; I have taken up too much of your time, when you should be spending it with your other guests. I believe I owe the lovely Lady Holdo a dance. If you will pardon me.”

Rey watched as Ren cut across the room, his long strides easily eating up the distance as he began to mingle. The loss of his presence left her strangely empty inside, which quickly flared into annoyance as she watched several of the unattached women titter and flirt as they tried to gain the young Lord’s attention.

“How intriguing,” Snoke said thoughtfully. “Despite Ren’s protestations, I am certain I know him from somewhere. You would do well to keep your eyes and ears open while in his presence.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Rey craned her neck slightly, trying to follow Ren’s figure as he gathered the Lady Holdo in his arms, leading her in a graceful Sauteuse. Her breath quickened as Ren’s right hand rested on Lady Holdo’s waist, then drifted to the small of her back as he pulled her close, near enough that their hips were almost brushing. Their scandalous position caused something to tighten in Rey’s chest, and she felt her face reddening further.

“If you will excuse me, my Lord,” Hux’s clipped tones interrupted Rey’s reverie, “but there is a small matter that requires your immediate attention. I regret to say that it is of a delicate and private nature.” He smirked as he took in Rey’s flushed appearance. “Are you feeling unwell, Miss Niima?”

“I… yes, Mister Hux. Just a mite warm. Too much excitement, I’m afraid.”

“Yes. I am certain that all the recent activity has been rather… stimulating.”

Snoke frowned. “Perhaps a glass of Negus would do you well, Miss Niima. Why don’t you avail yourself to one now? Mingle amongst the guests; act the gracious hostess, as befits the future Lady of the castle. I will join you later, once I have finished with Mister Hux.”

Rey gratefully took her leave. Her mind was awhirl, a cauldron of frustration and desire. The novelty of her emotions was confusing yet exhilarating, her body thrumming in a way that made her feel _alive._ She squirrelled herself away in the corner of the hall, far from the light and the revellers and the noise.

She removed her masque, letting it fall from her grasp as she willed her heart to slow. The music washed over her and she found herself closing her eyes, humming as her body gently swayed. Such moments of contentment were a rarity in her life; she found herself rooted to the spot, as if the castle and the energy around her were willing her to stay.

The smell of the night's supper permeated the air, the earthiness of roasted venison, mutton and fowl intermingling with savoury sauces and sugary sweets. The smell of spices and sage grew stronger, accompanied by the scent of something distinctly _masculine_ as a warm body suddenly pressed up behind her.

It could only be _him._

“Excuse me, my Lord!” Rey said indignantly, fighting her growing blush.

“I see that you were successful in giving the old throwback the slip.”

The words stirred memories of a mischievous boy’s request. “Ben—?!” she gasped. The remainder of her question was stifled as she was drawn back into an adjoining alcove.

“When in the company of the enemy, Miss Niima, you must only refer to me as Kylo Ren,” he hissed. The space was fairly large, but the darkness and his size made it feel unbearably intimate. His face was still hidden behind his masque, but there was no mistaking the hoarseness in his voice. He ran his hands along the stays of her gown, his fingers trembling. “God, I can’t believe I get to see you like this. All grown up. You’re even more beautiful than how I pictured you in my dreams.”

“You’ve dreamt of me?” Rey whispered, disbelieving.

“I've never stopped. I had visions of you; you were what I worked for, all that I longed for, all these years.” His voice hardened as he took a step back. “Unfortunately, it appears that I can’t say the same for you.”

“You know not of what you speak,” Rey bit out angrily. “A piece of me died every day that I didn’t hear from you.”

His head dipped down, his gaze sweeping along the lines of her bejeweled gown. “You hardly look worse for the wear, Miss Niima,” Kylo said drily.

“I _hate_ what I’ve become. I hated how other men would look at me; how they devalued me, even as my physical appearance increased my worth in their eyes.”

“Rubbish. Your beauty may be a part of you, but it does not define your merit.” Kylo moved closer, clasping her hand and bringing it to her heart. “This is where your worth lies, Rey. Here lies the beauty that called out to me when we were merely children. It is what speaks to me, each and every night.” He dropped his hand. “And yet I find you here, ensconced in the home of my greatest enemy,” he finished flatly.

“The situation with my parents, my Lord, goes beyond the issue of just my father’s title. They are indebted to Lord Snoke for an insurmountable amount. He has made his intentions towards me known, ever since I turned fifteen. He invalidated Lord Kaplan’s contract—ostensibly through coin, although it is rumoured that he also employed much less scrupulous means—then encouraged my father’s propensity for gambling and drink. Without this marriage, my father will hang.”

“Have the years been so unkind as to cause you to lose all trust and hope?” Kylo murmured. “Even as I stand here before you?”

Rey hesitated. The need to connect the past to the present, to prove that this was not the remnant of some long-forgotten fantasy, was overwhelming. “Let me see you,” she begged. “Take off your masque. Please.”

Kylo bent his head in acquiescence. His fingers, so long and thick, were deceptively nimble as he loosened the ties. They fell undone with a whisper and he shook his head as he straightened once more, awaiting her judgment.

The light was still too dim, the shadows hiding all but the lines of his face, the brightness of the ballroom throwing his angular profile into sharp relief.

“May I?” Rey whispered, holding up her hand.

He seemed to understand her request, leaning forward so she could reach him without difficulty despite the difference in their heights. She felt along his brow, marvelling at the sweep of his lashes as she traced the corners of his eyes, their downturned shape hinting at a touch of sadness. She moved lower, a gasp escaping her as she encountered the ridge of puckered flesh which lanced across his cheek, the angry line of it marring his otherwise smooth skin. She felt the hitch of his breath at her hesitation, and she poured all her concern and sorrow into her touch—for the loss of his boyish youth, and for the years in which they had both so obviously suffered.

Kylo turned his head until his lips touched her palm. They were soft and lush, and moistened by the heat of his breath.

“May I?” he asked, repeating her request as her heart caught in her throat.

His mouth ghosted over her palm as she nodded, then once again, but this time with passion, the depth of his need for her evident as he grew greedy. His teeth nipped gently at her wrist, the soft press of his lips soothing its sting before making their way up her arm. Rey’s skin was on fire, her heart thumping as she pressed the heel of her free hand against her mouth, stifling a moan. When Kylo could go no farther, limited by the lacy edges and silken hem of her sleeves, he stood.

“Oh,” she breathed as his hand curved around to the small of her waist. “Gods,” she groaned as his strong fingers dipped lower, the smooth fabric of her skirts rustling in protest as his palm curved along the swell of her bottom and drew her close.

He clasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face upwards. His chest rose and fell as his mouth parted while his eyes ran greedily down the graceful lines of her throat. “May I,” he rasped once more, thickly.

“Please,” she whispered. She felt herself swaying, something hot coiling from deep within her stomach as her hands fisted the lapels of his tailcoat, holding her upright and pulling him near. “Please…”

A low growl emanated from deep in the back of his throat and then he was kissing her, his lips moving possessively over hers, and it was nothing, _nothing_ like a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, or a polite kiss on the hand. She had dreamt of a kiss like this—her first _real_ kiss—but even that paled in comparison. Kylo’s kiss was long and hard and all-encompassing; she could taste the sweetness of his lips, the faint smokiness of his wine and the remnants of the cheroot on his tongue. Her hands wrapped around his neck, his thick locks sweeping softly over her skin as he backed her up, one step, then two, until her shoulders met the wall.

“Rey,” he groaned against her lips, the separation sounding like agony. His body was hard, muscles taut, and as his hips ground against hers, the tight fit of his breeches did nothing to hide the state of his arousal.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. She tugged on the nape of his neck, her body arching towards him as she urged him lower.

“No, _ma moitié,”_ Kylo said reluctantly. Even in the dark, the gold of his irises visibly glittered with regret. “I would like nothing more. But the castle’s walls are filled with too many eyes and ears.” He brushed his lips against hers, then nuzzled the soft crook of her neck. “And when I take you in my arms again, it will not be in fear or shame, but in celebration.”

“But when will I see you again?” Rey asked, her pitch rising in desperation.

“Meet me in the marketplace tomorrow at half past noon. On the corner of Endor and Jakku.” He kissed her once more, squeezing her hand regretfully before slipping his masque back into place. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

He was gone in a blink. Rey shivered, the air suddenly chilled from the loss of his warmth. She smoothed the folds of her gown and tucked away the tendrils of hair which had escaped from her chignon as she counted to sixty, hoping that the pink in her cheeks would recede, the swelling of her lips would diminish, the racing of her heart would slow, and the sparkle in her eyes would fade.

She stepped back out into the world, unaware that her future husband was watching, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

 

**⚜.~OIVO~.⚜**

The fourth time she saw him, it was as if time had never passed.

Spring had brought along with it a large crowd as the populace took advantage of the warm weather to breathe the fragrant air, browse the wares of the marketplace, or strut about in their finery. The buskers were also out in full force, their warbling notes competing with the melodies of the neighbouring musicians, resulting in a fascinating amalgam of counterpoint and dissonance.

Rey drew her cloak near, enjoying her temporary anonymity. It had not been easy to escape the careful eye of Mister Hux. She had resorted to requesting the services of a modiste, then plead modesty until the wily advisor finally relented, consigning himself to setting up watch outside the shop.

An open back door and the purchase of a new capote gave Rey the freedom that she desired. Though absent of itinerants, a wave of nostalgia assaulted her as she made her way towards the the main square. An old jongleur in the far corner sang a soulful tune—a tale of love, lost and found. His voice trembled with anguish, and Rey found the edges of her vision blurring as the meaning of his words tugged at her heart.

She removed several shillings from her purse. They rolled as she dropped them into his wooden box, their tinkling sounds soon joined by the thud of a single guinea.

“Thank you, Miss!” the minstrel said gratefully. “And much obliged to you too, my Lord.”

“‘Twas a pretty tune for an even prettier girl,” the newcomer said. He turned to Rey and tipped his hat. “We meet again, Miss Niima. I am pleased to discover that your heart is not as jaded as I'd once thought.”.

Rey’s eyes widened. “Lord Ren?”

It would not be entirely correct to state that Kylo— _Ben_ —had grown into his looks. He did not have the traditional beauty of Mister Hux, nor the delicate features of the dandies who often attended Snoke’s court. His jaw was overly long, caught halfway between soft and strong, and his nose was sharp and angular. His mouth was too wide and lush, and his eyes framed by lashes so full they could almost be considered feminine. A scar traversed his right cheek, the length and sweep of it hinting at some darkness in his past. He was incredibly tall, and his muscular build and sheer physicality indicated years of hard labour instead of a life of leisure.

“Please excuse my boldness. I... I scarcely recognised you.”

He gave her a small smile. “I would recognise you anywhere.”

“But it has been well over ten years—”

“Even if I had not gazed upon your lovely countenance just last night, or tasted the sweetness of your lips, or smelled the soft perfume of your skin, I would know. We are connected through our magic, Miss Niima—just as we have been in the past, and as we will be again, in another life.”

“You speak of past and future lives as if they were a foregone conclusion, my Lord. Do you not believe in God? In the teachings of the Church?”

“Magic and religion are not exclusive,” Kylo said, choosing his words carefully. “The concepts of alchemy and divination have existed for thousands of years, long before the establishment of the Church. We may use the term ‘Magic,’ or even ‘Dark Magic,’ but it is the force which is inherent in all living things.” He shrugged, the movement hinting at the boy he had once been. “I just happen to be more attuned to it than most.”

A basket-weaver glanced up from where he was seated, his gnarled hands stilling as he gave Kylo a curious look. Kylo’s hair ruffled in the breeze, the afternoon sun limning the strands with hints of blue.

“The market is unusually crowded today. Perhaps it would be better if we were to continue our conversation elsewhere,” he murmured, leading her to one of the less travelled footpaths as they continued to walk.

“Your family,” Rey said slowly once they were safely out of earshot. “You mentioned that they were strong with this force. Are they still with you?”

A pained expression flitted over Kylo’s face. “My father is no longer of this Earth. And I have since grown distant from my mother.” He grimaced, as if he were tasting something unpalatable. “The last time I saw her was six months after you and I first met.”

“That was ten years ago! You were but a child!”

“So were you when your future was decided; when you parents bound you to one lecher, only to trade hands with another.” The lines in Ben’s face hardened. “I could not stay on the same path, wearing my shame with a false smile while performing for the amusement of people like Snoke.”

“Where did you go?”

“I needed to continue my training. I made my way to Skellig Michael… Ballinskelligs Abbey, to be precise. One of the monks, Brother Luke, took me under his wing. He taught me about culture and science, schooled me in the French and Gaelic languages, introduced me to the art of dueling, and furthered my understanding of spiritualism and magic. I learned the value of meditation, and of my ability for astral projection.” He hesitated, the soles of his boots susurrating over the cobblestones as he mulled over his next words. “I learned a great deal from the monks. For awhile, I was happy. But the Brothers grew concerned, believing that many of the practises which I grew up with fell under the category of 'Black Magic.' They failed to see that light and dark magic could co-exist in a continuum, viewing it instead as opposite sides of the coin. Fearing my increasing skills, they asked me to leave the Abbey one year later.

“Brother Luke took pity on me. After hearing of my promise to you, he told me that something precious was buried within Skellig Michael’s shores. I pored over historical texts, trying to locate its whereabouts. Cold and hungry and penniless, I finally found it, nearly three weeks later.”

“You found pirate’s treasure?” Rey asked, thinking of the stories she had read in her books.

Kylo’s face was bitter. “Not quite. Brother Luke…” He snorted. “I should have listened more carefully. He told me that the treasure would give me all that I needed, something useful to start my new life. There was a bit of gold—just enough to get me off the island, and to keep myself clothed and fed for the next month—but he was referring to something else. A Toledan sword, made of the finest Spanish steel. It was pure perfection in its design and finish. The hilt was beautiful, with woven gold and silver bullion at its knot, crowned by a fiery red jewel. I was sorely tempted to remove it to fund my journey, but could not bring myself to debase its beauty.”

“You had my ring as well,” Rey said softly. “You could have sold it; ‘twas the reason I had given it to you.”

“Perhaps. But I could not bear to lose the last physical reminder I had of you.” He placed his hand in the pocket of his waistcoat and withdrew a pouch. He plucked out the ring, the band glinting in the light as he made a move to hand it to her.

“No. Keep it,” Rey said gently. “In my hands it is an uncomfortable reminder of my past, but in yours, it is a symbol of hope.” She watched as Kylo nodded, then tucked it back in his pocket. “So how were you able to transform a sword and some gold pieces into an earldom?”

For the first time, Kylo did not meet her gaze. “It is surprising the number of feudal baronies which one may avail themselves of, for the right price.”

Rey raised a brow.

“I had my ways,” Kylo said, his face darkening. “My years of performing had made me a keen observer of human nature. I knew the vices of men... knew their weakness for betting and libation and sex. It was easy to uncover the depravity which lurked inside, which if exposed, would cause the ruin of so many.”

“You resorted to blackmail,” Rey said flatly.

“I did what was needed. They were already flawed; should I have turned my back, just so they would would give their bounty to someone else?”

“Oh, my Lord,” Rey said sorrowfully. “Don’t you see? ‘Tis beneath you, to have gained your influence in such a manner.”

Kylo stopped suddenly, his body tense with anger. “Everything I did, I did for you.”

“Do not dare to place the burden on me, my Lord. I do not doubt the purity of your intentions. And I appreciate your concern for my well-being. But I would not want to exchange the physical shackles of my marriage contract for the spiritual one which comes at the price of your soul. I could not live with such a burden of guilt… not out of concern for me, but because of its cost to you.”

“The outcome in this case is worth any price!”

“Not to me.” Rey stopped, desperate for Kylo to understand. “To pursue your goals, to fulfill your own desires without regard for the well-being or wishes of others, is no different from the manipulations of my future husband. He preys upon people’s weaknesses, and relishes the demonstrations of his power.”

The line of Kylo’s mouth thinned further. “I stand before you with the sins and foibles of other men on my hands. I cannot change what I have done to get here, Rey. But I _can_ offer you a way out.” He bridged the distance and took her hand in his, the heat of it causing her heart to flutter. “After all this time, would you turn me away, and with it, the chance at your own freedom?”

“I…” She couldn’t think clearly; his presence was overwhelming.

“Rey. I can try to be a better man, if given the chance.” His face grew sadder in the face of her silence. “Do you think me so great a monster that you cannot see past my mistakes?”

“You are not a monster,” Rey said slowly, “but how can I savour my freedom, knowing that it comes from the misery of others?” She let out a sigh. “Things seemed much less complicated when we were children. The truth of our heart’s desire seemed much simpler.”

Kylo startled momentarily. “Wait here. I won’t be but a moment. Please?”

“My Lord?” Rey watched as Kylo entered one of the shoppes, his eyes flashing mischievously once he returned to Rey’s side several minutes later.

“I’ve been waiting years to give this to you.” He handed her a package with an expectant grin. “Go on,” he encouraged her. The package was soft and warm. When she undid the string, the smell of honey mixed with spice and dried fruit filled the air.

“You once told me that if you had all the riches at your disposal, you would buy enough lardy cakes for the both of us to share. It was this thought which sustained me when my stomach was empty, pained with hunger. It was what soothed my loneliness, the idea that comforted me when I thought a task insurmountable, and the motivation that pushed me when I felt I had nothing left to give.”

“Kylo,” Rey said, her heart breaking.

“There's more. I thought about what you had said, your reasons for choosing the lardy cake: food, sacrifice, purity, and life. But although this cake may be symbolic of your childhood desires, it also holds hope for your future.”

He dipped his hand in and broke off a piece of the cake, bringing the sweetly glazed surface to her lips. “Bread,” he said, raising it to the margins of her lips. “For resurrection and rebirth.”

His thumb pressed slowly against her swollen lips until they parted. “The grape. The emblem of Bacchus, and a celebration of sexuality and ecstasy.

“Ginger,” Kylo continued, his pupils fattening as Rey's tongue darted out to catch the sticky sweetness.  “For passion and faithfulness. And honey, for oneness with the Earth, and immortality.”

“My Lord,” Rey gasped. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his breath, his eyes an inky black.

“Take the money, Rey. Use it to free yourself and your family from the contract and their debt.” He held out his hand temptingly.

She would not take it. Not yet. “I will think on it. I do not take your sacrifice lightly.”

“And until you decide?”

Rey took a deep breath; when she spoke, her voice was steady.

“There is one thing I wish for myself. When you kissed me last night, it was as if my heart soared. I want to feel that once more. I want to know what it means to be cared for by another. I want to be loved, as a woman and as a person.”

“You are sure.” His piercing eyes searched hers, looking for any uncertainty.

“Yes, my Lord.”

The look he gave her caused her to shiver. It was oddly triumphant and possessive.

“Call me Ben,” he said, impatiently summoning his carriage.

 

**~***~**

She had experienced instances of another man's touch… her father’s rare embrace, the kiss on the back of her hand from an admirer, Snoke’s controlling presence on the small of her back. But nothing could never prepare her for _this._

Ben kissed as if he would die without her touch, the taste of her his succor and strength. His lips were greedy as he mouthed the line of her neck, nipping at the pale softness, the tip of his tongue following soon afterwards to lave its growing flush.

“Gods,” Rey moaned, tilting her head back. He pressed her against the wall, the buttons of his coat catching on the silken weave of her dress as she turned towards him, trying to catch his mouth with her lips. “Ben, please… “

His eyes were as black as the starless night. He reached up and cupped her chin, her name tumbling from his mouth as he slanted his lips to cover her own. She parted for him, giving way to his insistence as he licked along the inside of her mouth, the sensation of it intense and rapturous.

She felt like she was being consumed, a victim to his passion. She fell against him, her hands snaking along his neck, holding on to him with all her worth. Everything about him was dizzying—the scent of the soap on his skin, the weight of his hands on her sides, the hard line of his leg against her thigh. She gasped as his body rutted against hers, the weight of his want squeezing precious air from her lungs, which he returned with each glorious kiss.

“Rey,” Ben groaned. He nuzzled the crook of her neck, burying himself in the taste of her skin as he tried to control his need. “I’m... _Bloody Hell.”_ He inhaled sharply, the sound of it hissing between his teeth. “Just give me a moment,” he pleaded. “I want to love you like you deserve.”

He discarded his overcoat and waistcoat, tossing them over the chair before gathering her into his arms. The multiple layers of silk and crinoline should have made the motion cumbersome, yet he carried her with an effortless grace. He laid her down gently onto his bed, wrapped in sheets that still carried the decadent traces of his cologne.

“Have you thought about me?” he asked, his muscular form hovering over her.

“Every night," she answered, the heat of her confession flooding Rey’s skin. "Until it became too painful to do so.”

“And what did you think of?” he asked as he loosened the ribbons adorning her dress.

“I…” Rey closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. “How it felt to escape from Miss Abigail. What it felt like to be a child. Excited. Free.”

“Yes,” Ben hummed. “Very nice things to think about, indeed.” He gently parted the layers of her gown, pulling down the straps of her chemise and rucking the fabric below the swell of her breasts so that the excess material pushed them out obscenely. He cupped the mounds of flesh in his large hands. “What else did you think about?” he asked, the rest of his question muted as he lowered his head and took her into his mouth.

“I... _nnngh_ ... I thought about you. Wondered where you were, what you looked like.” She let out a cry as he flicked the tip of her pebbling nipple with his tongue, then rolled it around in the wet heat of his mouth. _“Gods,”_ she breathed as she arched into him. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled, unable to prevent the whimper which escaped when her teat slipped out.

“What else?” he whispered.

She wanted to pull his head back down, to feel the softness of his lips wrapped around her swollen flesh even as something uncomfortable bloomed inside her chest. “I wondered if you had found another. Someone else to hold. Another woman to warm your bed.”

Ben paused. “I do not deny that I've learned many things in recent years. I have learned when to speak boldly and when to keep my words measured, how to coerce through force or suggestion, and how to impress with modesty or success. I’ve learned how to bend the wills of others through a meaningful look, a delicate turn of phrase, or a persuasive touch.” He dipped his head lower, raising the voluminous folds of her skirt so that her long legs were bared before him, with only the thinnest layer of cotton between her quim and his lustful gaze.

“You’ve plied your talents on many others, then,” Rey said, unable to keep the jealousy from her voice. It dissolved into a moan as Ben took his finger and hooked it along the edge of her undergarment, his palm pressing insistently against the sodden fabric.

"The women of the court were easy to seduce with mere flattery and attention. And though I have lain with others—courtesans and _filles de joie_ —I have never made love to another. That, _mon_ _âme sœur,_ could only come from being with you.” He lowered the hem of her drawers, the fabric rasping against her curls. “So beautiful,” Ben murmured as his fingers brushed against her swollen folds, glistening with slick. “I want to savour you. Taste every part of you. Watch you fall slowly apart.”

_“Oh!”_ Rey gasped, canting her hips. She had seen the way the horses had rutted in the stables, how the dogs took the bitches in heat, heard how men fornicated with women by filling their honeypots with their pricks. But this... _this…_ She fisted the folds of her dress as she attempted to stifle her cries, her thighs falling open as Ben’s tongue licked a long stripe along the length of her mons. He flicked the sensitive nub before lapping once again at the juices which were beginning to coat his face. He hummed in satisfaction, the vibration causing her to grind against him wantonly, to push herself against his probing tongue, shamelessly begging for more.

He removed her drawers, then dipped one finger and then another around the opening of her cunt, pushing in with their blunt tips. The discomfort from the unfamiliar intrusion eventually gave way to something more pleasurable. Ben’s hand sank deeper, his movements growing more assured with each stroke. His thumb brushed the top of her mons as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, their fullness making her struggle to catch her breath.

“Ben… _uhh,_ Ben!” she cried as his head disappeared between her thighs, replacing his fingers with his mouth. His nose was buried in her curls as his tongue licked and probed, the wetness and slick sounding obscenely loud as he snuffled and groaned

Her fingers gripped his hair; she wanted to pull him closer, yet knew she needed more. “Take me,” she whispered, pleading with him to replace her loneliness and emptiness with the magic of his touch. “Make love to me, Ben.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening with spit and the remnants of her desire as he removed his shirt and his trousers. A whine escaped her as she witnessed the broad expanse of his skin, the freckles which dotted their pale surface, as beautiful as the constellations in the heavens.

“Rey,” he murmured, his muscles flexing as he crawled back onto the bed, looming over her. The fingers which had threatened to take her apart were now caressing the angles of her face with something akin to reverence. “I’ve dreamt of this moment for more times than you could ever know.”

“No more dreaming. We’ve both wanted and were lonely for so long. I want to live. I want to share this joy with you.”

His cry was magnificent, the sound of it twisting her gut as he sobbed his relief. His cock was hard, the head of it swollen with his longing, the thick length of it pulling up towards his belly. He braced himself over her, gathering her with one arm as he angled his prick with the other, both of them hissing with anticipation as he slowly pressed against her opening.

She readied herself for the pain, but it was not forthcoming. The breach and stretch gave way to a glorious fullness as Ben sank into her warm and willing flesh. Ben’s eyes widened; the shuddering groan which escaped his lips told her that he was similarly affected.

They began to move, her hands reaching down to grasp at his hips, his buttocks clenching as he drew back then thrust forward. She matched his movements, greeting him equally as she hooked her heels around the long lines of his calves, her nails raking paths across the broad expanse of his back and shoulders.  

“Rey… love,” he groaned, his movements growing stuttered as she continued to grind against him. The heat and tension built in her groin, spreading up through her belly as she tensed, her legs tightening around him until she her mind was blinded by a hazy, floating, falling sensation— _l_ _a petite mort._ Ben followed quickly after, her name a mantra on his lips as he shuddered and spilled hot inside of her.

He thrust weakly several more times before nearly collapsing, careful to keep her in his arms as he angled his body beside her.

“That was…” Rey stopped, suddenly overcome with shyness.

“Breathtaking. Magnificent.” Ben leaned forward, catching her lower lip with his teeth before soothing it with a soft kiss.

They lay together in silence for several minutes, enjoying the warmth and comfort as the sun as it slanted through the windows, bathing them in its glow. Rey shifted, enjoying the feel of his legs... rougher, longer, more masculine, against her own.

“I wish we could lie here forever,” she said drowsily.

“Mmmm,” Ben agreed. He turned onto his side, his palm making lazy circles on her skin.

“I’ve been gone far too long. Mister Hux—”

Ben quieted her with another kiss. “I will pay a call to my solicitors. Snoke’s influence may reach deep into the pockets of the magistrate, but I have several tricks up my sleeve. Your age of consent and the familial nature of the contract, to start.”

“It won’t be easy, Ben. Snoke does not like to be made the fool. He has sought vengeance on others for much, much less.”

Ben’s eyes hardened. “I will offer all I have. If he would prefer to remain unreasonable… well, I have grown quite masterful with the sword.” He sat up and swung his legs over the bed, unabashed at his nakedness.

Rey watched as he bent over to draw on his breeches and his overshirt. She fastened the buttons of her dress, then smoothed down the silk and shook out the folds. Ben strode to her side, gathering her into his arms and mussing the fabric all over again. Their lips touched, giving and taking, marking them both.

He stared at her. “How am I to get anything done, when all I can think of is you?”

“We’ve made it ten years; as difficult as it may be, we will make it for one day more,” she said as they exited his room and made their way to the front of the hotel.

Ben held open the door. “Every second not spent by your side would be the sweetest torture.”

An acrid cloud of smoke wafted towards them, causing Rey to choke.

“An interesting choice of words, Lord Ren,” Mister Hux drawled. His eyes were gleaming with delight as he nodded at the imposing black carriage stationed ten metres in front of them, emblazoned with the House of Snoke’s coat of arms.

“Get in,” he said curtly, his tone brokering no nonsense. “Lord Snoke is requesting the pleasure of both your companies.”

 

**⚜.~OVO~.⚜**

On the fifth time that she saw him, their lives hung in the balance.

“My darling betrothed,” Snoke said lowly, his thin voice turning the words sibilant. He drew a bony finger across the softness of Rey’s cheek, and she was unable to hide her revulsion at his touch. “Such a pity. And I was so looking forward to our wedding night.” The edge of his nail traced a dangerous line against the pale flesh. “Unfortunately, I don’t take kindly to partaking in someone else’s spoils.”

“Better to be outwardly spoiled than to be sullied from within.”

Snoke gave a low chuckle. “‘Tis truly a shame that such beauty and fire must eventually be extinguished.” There was a whispering sound as the strip of fabric which blindfolded Rey quickly unknotted. “Don’t worry,” he chided as Rey scanned the environs, blinking rapidly as she tried to adjust to the late afternoon light, “Your companion’s unfortunate situation is only temporary, I assure you.”

There was a growing wind, the tall grass beginning to whip about her heels as they stood in front of a copse of trees. The landscape was unfamiliar, but Rey thought that she saw the tops of the hedge maze and the outline of the castle’s parapets in the distance to the west. They must have been brought to the outskirts of Snoke’s estate.

“You vile beast!” Rey cried when she spotted Kylo’s limp form. His head and shoulders were sagging, his upper body held upright by two burly guards as his knees remained on the ground. “What have you done to him?”

“Such concern, my child. I wonder... would you have ever showed the same consideration for me? No matter,” he smirked as he drank in her outraged expression. “It is merely chloroform; used for colic, but incredibly effective as a powerful anaesthetic when inhaled. Nothing too long lasting, at least in small doses. After all, I would hate to destroy something that I’ve been cultivating so carefully.”

The angry flare in Rey’s eyes darkened in confusion. “I was already fifteen when we were betrothed. Old enough to be aware of the evilness of your nature.”

Snoke let out a laugh, the sound of it coming from deep within his cavernous chest before dissipating into a gasp. “Oh, how highly we think of ourselves,” he wheezed. “You think that this is about you, Miss Niima? You are delightful, I will admit, but what I am seeking transcends superficialities such as mere beauty.

“What I’m seeking is much more powerful. Something that has withstood the test of time, a product of Providence and the teachings of a thousand years of experience. Magic… borne of this world, and perpetuated by those who know its secrets. A talent worth more to me than all my gold, for with it, the possibilities are endless.” Snoke’s beady eyes glinted as his smile grew even larger. “It is a talent which lies deep within your Lord Ren. Or should I say… Mister Solo?”

Ben stirred, his name on Snoke’s lips causing his eyes to snap open. Rey watched as the dull film of the chloroform wore off, replaced by a sudden understanding as he struggled against the guards’ hold.

“Let her go, Snoke,” he said, his voice still thick from the sedation. “She has nothing to do with your pitiful obsession with me.”

“Oh, but you’re quite wrong, Ben. She has _everything_ to do with you. All those years that you've spent toiling away, gaining your fortunes on the Continent. Did you not think that the tales of a mysterious noble, whose prowess with the sword and his uncanny ability to know the most deeply-seated desires hidden within the minds of men, would not reach my ears? Why would I not be interested in the astonishing news of a previously unknown member of the peerage, whose actions were driven by a promise and a declaration of his intent to his childhood love?”

Snoke leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of Rey’s ear as his noisome breath invaded her lungs. “I have no such intentions towards your beloved, Ben. That is, if you play nice. You see, my desire lies in quite another direction, I assure you.”

He let out another laugh as Ben roared in frustration, his huge body lunging forward, only to be restrained viciously as his hands were jerked behind him.

“Your emotions have always been your weakness. Did you think that I could not see your contempt at what you were forced to do as a child, to downplay your gifts for the public’s pleasure? That is why I knew you were destined for greatness, beyond that which your mother and father were willing to give. You hungered to know the extent of your magic; and now that you’ve had a taste of it, you will teach it to me.”

Ben let out a low laugh. “Magical knowledge is not something that can just be bandied about like a shuttlecock.”

“I _will_ have it, one way or another. If you cannot teach it to me, then at least I will have ownership over it. Through you.”

“And what makes you think that I would submit to such a request?”

“It is not a request, Lord Ren. Think of it as a demand. Or, if it is more palatable, a negotiation. After all, I do have something of great value to you.”

“You…” Rey hissed. “You have a sickness. I will not be a pawn in your scheme to win over his soul.”

Snoke’s hand flew out quickly, the sting which bloomed across her face shocking her with its violence. She stumbled backwards, the heels of her boots skittering faster and faster as her body attempted to right itself.

“You fool! Did you not know that you already have been? Why do you think I sought to terminate your settlement contract with Lord Kaplan? Or sent an invitation to the celebration of our betrothal to ‘Lord Ren?’ And did you really think that my trusted advisor would be so foolish as to leave you unattended at the modiste for so long? You and Ren have _both_ been my pawns for far longer than you've realised, and have played most excellently into my plans.”

“Let her go, Snoke, and I will teach you all I know.” Ben lifted his head and Rey’s heart dropped at the look of defeat which curtained his gaze. The atmosphere seemed to reflect his somber tone as the sky turned a near purple, and the wind picked up speed, along with the hint of rain.

“No, Ben. Please,” Rey begged. “It is not worth the price of what he could do to others when given access to such power.”

“Would it be worth it though, Mister Solo, to see Miss Niima spared the pain? Of preventing the tearing of her soul into a thousand pieces, that sweet flesh which you crave so greatly lashed with the end of a whip, her beauty marred, her spirit broken, when all you need to do is to swear your fealty to me?” A cruel laugh escaped as Ben broke free, the sharp edge of his heel catching one of the guards across the knee with a resounding crack. He whipped around, flexing his elbow and striking out at his remaining captor as he brought it out and up against his chin, then pivoted around to catch the side of his face, bringing the hapless man down.

“Yes," Snoke laughed. “Use your anger. Channel that rage, and bring it all to me.”

Ben looked around wildly, reaching for his scabbard, only to come up empty.

“Looking for this?” Snoke asked. He lifted a sword, its blade long and threatening, the polished steel edges gleaming wickedly in the dimming light. “A magnificent weapon; one of the finest I’ve ever seen.” He turned the sword up, then around thoughtfully, before angling its deadly tip towards Rey. “It is as I once told you told you, Ben; loyalty _can_ be bought.”

Ben raised his hand. The heavens darkened, the clouds roiling faster and faster until a blaze of light flashed across the sky with a thunderous crack.

Some said that it was Nature’s wrath. Others, the influence of Dark Magic. And still others, the power of Love.

Rey would swear before all that was holy that she saw Ben’s fingers give out the faintest twitch.

But whatever the cause, the Fates must have taken Mercy on the pair, because as the lightning struck within close proximity to the group, Snoke leaped back with a startled cry, impaling himself on Ben’s trusty sword, which cleaved the evil Lord in two.

 

**⚜.~Epilogue~.⚜**

The sixth time marked the point where one life ended and another one began.

“Do you feel it?”

Rey kept her lids closed. The lavender which filled the meadow perfumed the air with its lovely scent; she inhaled, taking note of its direction, the shift in the sun’s warmth and the accompanying breeze, the warbles of the larks trilling in the distance. There was something else… a low thrum, the scent of Ben’s skin, the pulsating rhythm of his heart.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her eyes flew open, her gaze coming to rest on his intent expression. “I feel it.”

His eyes softened, filling with something akin to pride and amazement. “I do, too.” He cleared his throat and a faint pinkness tinted his cheeks, reminiscent of the young boy whom Rey had met so long ago. “Snoke was wrong. There is no question that Dark Magic is strong and frightening in its potential. But the power of Love… truly, it is the most powerful magic of all.”

Rey took his hand in hers. The past several weeks had been a whirlwind; after the investigation, Snoke’s death had been attributed to an Act of God, while his estate and retinue were brought up on charges of conspiracy and kidnapping. Ben had opted to forego a lengthy trial and struck a deal with his solicitors and Mister Hux to forgive any remuneration owed by Rey’s parents upon Snoke’s death, along with a repudiation of the betrothal contract. They soon left England, taking up more permanent residence at Ben’s estate in the Duchy of Aquitaine.

“‘Twas a good thing you did, my Lord. To spare yourself the tediousness of the courts. My parents got no more than they deserved. And the reparations which you were able to acquire from Lord Snoke’s coffers will go far in aiding those who had suffered so mightily from his hand.”

“You were one of those who suffered, Rey.”

“As have you, for far longer than most. Lord Snoke had coveted your powers since you were but a babe in your mother’s womb.”

Ben blinked owlishly, then was silent for a moment. “I have devoted too much of my life in the service of people like him,” he finally said. “I cannot erase my past, but I would like to begin anew.” He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small filigree box. “Ten years ago, you gave me your ring, as a way to pave both our freedoms. Now, I find myself free from the anger and fear which once bound me, but tethered in a different way. Only this time, I find myself eager to explore the limitless nature of our bond, of where life, and love, may take me.”

He opened the box; a large ruby sat in the center of the ring, surrounded by a circle of diamonds, its facets glittering like a thousand mirrors in the brightness of the sun.

“Rey; I would be deeply honoured if you would choose to be my partner in this life.”

Rey’s heart beat against her chest as her eyes swam with the implications of his words. Unlike his profession to save her all those years ago, he was now asking to be joined in happiness and love. To enter her life as both her partner, and her equal.

“Yes,” she whispered, then more loudly, as the joy bubbled up from within her. “Yes!”

Ben slid the ring onto her finger. It fit her perfectly, as if it had always belonged. They leaned in, their bodies giving way to one another as their lips touched. Their kiss was soft and assured, the bitterness of the past chased away with each passing second as it was soon replaced by the honeyed sweetness of future’s promise.

**⚜.~Fin~.⚜**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *An amazing colored version has also been created, and both versions of the embedded art can be seen [here](http://nerdherderette.tumblr.com/post/171400744575/the-promise-he-made-a-promise-to-her-once-when)
> 
> **Come say "hi" on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdherderette)


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